


Faith

by Atraea



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-16
Updated: 2011-12-16
Packaged: 2017-10-27 10:09:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/294576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atraea/pseuds/Atraea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris asks Sebastian about the nature of faith.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faith

“Sebastian?”

 

“Hm?” Sebastian looked up from wherever in his mind he’d gone to. Whenever the two of them were together, between silences, Sebastian would become quiet, contemplative.  He would sit there across from Fenris, eyes lowered to the floor, gentleness upon his features. If Fenris said nothing, he’d sit there for nearly half an hour. But usually, the silence was heavy for Fenris, uncomfortable, and he would cough, say “…uhm,” make a sound in his throat. Sebastian would stir, eyes slightly wide as if he had been gently shaken awake, and then a blush would creep across his cheeks. And then he would apologize.

 

Fenris was initially secure in his lack of faith, but after the first time seeing Sebastian in such deep meditation, with an expression of ease across his face…it was only then that his lack began to bother him.

 

“What…what does it feel like?”

 

Sebastian hiked a brow. “What does it…?”

 

“Faith,” Fenris said plainly.

 

“Oh! What does faith feel like…?” There was still some confusion in his voice. Fenris nodded.

 

“Yes, having it.”

 

“Ohhhhhh! You are asking what having faith feels like.” Sebastian nodded, finally grasping the question, before looking into the elf’s face again. “I’ll assume you mean faith in the Maker, not faith in general.”

 

“Either, really.”

 

This surprised Sebastian. It was one thing to ask him about religious faith, he was the resident “Choir Boy” after all. But for Fenris to ask about faith in general, he couldn’t help but wonder why he would ask him, as one could imagine he has obvious biases. He straightened up in the pew, setting his hands in his lap, clicking his tongue. “Before I ask…” he approached the question cautiously. As much as Fenris liked to think otherwise, he tended to take things a bit personally. “Why ask me? I am flattered that you asked me, it says that you value our relationship and my opinion, but…I’ll admit I am a bit biased on the matter. Why not ask someone else?”

 

Fenris blinked, his eyes rolling to the arm of the pew, before settling in Sebastian bright blues. “I asked Aveline and Donnic once. They seemed to have conflicting views on the matter…Aveline _was_ married to a Templar after all. Donnic seemed less attuned to it, but my understanding was that it had more to do with a grudge against the templars and guardsmen than the actual faith.”

 

“Ah.” Sebastian shrugged. Yes, that would make sense about Aveline. He never considered Donnic’s reasoning before, though to be fair, he never contemplated the grudges held between the templars and guardsmen. He shifted in the pew, turning more toward Fenris.

 

“Well, what about Hawke? He is our ‘fearless leader’ after all. Perhaps he could give you some insight.”

 

Fenris’ mouth twitched, and a flash of an incomprehensible expression washed over his face for but a moment before it was gone. He turned his gaze back to the arm of the pew. Sebastian was bewildered before he recalled what had happened between the two of them a year past.

 

“You still haven’t spoken to him then.”

 

The elf’s eyes remained glued to that spot, and he remained silent.

 

“You’re going to have to approach him eventually.”

 

He did not budge.

 

Sebastian sighed. “Well…if it’s any incentive, the mages are starting to make eyes. If you want anything to come of this you would do well to address it now.”

 

Fenris shifted, before turning to look at the floor beneath his feet. “You’re not addressing my question.”

 

Sebastian smiled gently. “Fair enough. You were asking about…faith, was it?” Fenris nodded. “Well…it’s a very esoteric feeling to start. If you haven’t had it, it’s very difficult to describe to someone else. And on top of that, everyone feels and expresses their faith differently. Some write and research the ancient relics and writings, others sing and speak to spread the Maker’s message. The templars defend us. Some are simply content with studying and reciting the Chant of Light. I’ve heard some say that they felt euphoria when washed in the Maker’s glory. Others say it is almost like being in love.”

 

“What about you?”

 

Sebastian froze for a moment. For all of the lecturing and preaching he did, he never actually dwelt upon how his faith made him feel. He went quiet for a moment, and appeared to be entering another contemplative state. Fenris’ followed Sebastian’s gaze, and rocked uncomfortably in the pew, making the wood beneath his skinny frame creak.  When Sebastian spoke, his voice was softer, and he didn’t look up.

 

“…Certain. Secure. Before I joined the Chantry, while it seemed I was determined and driven in my path to make my family as embarrassed of me as was possible, my mind…wandered. That was the reason I did much of what I did. So that I wouldn’t have to think about where I was, what I was doing with myself, where I was _going_. But the Chantry…the Grand Cleric…they both changed that.” Sebastian looked up, beaming. “My faith in the Maker has given me a more profound sense of purpose. That there’s more to this life, here, and that one can do more than just amble about having mindless sex and drinking to excess.”  He stumbled on the last few words.

 

Despite the fact that there had been a time when he said far worse without so much as a bat of an eye, something about those words coming out of his mouth now made his breath hitch. Not necessarily in a bad way, but Sebastian wasn’t so sure if he would go so far as to say it felt good either. He waved the feeling away, looking up to meet Fenris’ eyes, which were still transfixed on the floor. The elf’s gaze shifted, the white of his eyes making the large green circles within more apparent. It occurred to Sebastian in this moment that their eyes and ears were about the only thing Merrill and Fenris had in common as elves. Their ears perked out, attentive, attuned to the sounds around them, and their eyes were large, almond, moss-colored, and usually contrary to at least one of their natures, ever-inquisitive. Fenris had that look now as he opened his mouth to speak.

 

“Certainty…hm.”

 

“…Is something wrong?”

 

“No.” Fenris’ voice was flat, his answer terse.

 

Sebastian cautiously scooted closer, leaning his head down at an awkward angle to see the elf’s face. “Fenris?”

 

“What.”

 

Sebastian only had to stare for about thirty more seconds before Fenris gave an exasperated sigh and leaned away. “I just…thought there would be more to it than that. That’s all.” Sebastian resumed his normal posture, smirking. “Why would there need to be more?”

 

“You make it seem like more. To be so fiercely loyal, so devoted to something like that, _anything_ really...it is beyond my experience.”

 

“You are devoted to Hawke, are you not?”

 

Fenris cut his eyes at him so hard and quick that Sebastian momentarily thanked the Maker that he wasn’t made of glass. But the moment passed quickly, and he did not budge. “Am I wrong?”

 

The elf’s posture slumped a bit, his resolve to remain as closed off and uncooperative as he could began to waver as he heaved a sigh. “…not entirely.”

 

Sebastian smiled. “All right then. You have felt some degree of devotion for…” He paused, glancing at Fenris, whose eyes had since fallen back to the floor.  “…someone. By feeling devotion, you have felt faith in some capacity. It’s faith of a different kind for certain, but still faith. By following Hawke, you’re putting your faith in him to make decisions that are…conducive to your perspective. Faith that by following him he will lead you, and perhaps bring you closer to the goal you have set. Or perhaps alternatively, set a goal for you to work toward.” Sebastian placed a hand gently on Fenris’ shoulder, so as not to startle him. He felt the muscle beneath his hand twitch for a second, and green eyes shooting toward his fingers. The prince smiled with a reassuring softness. “Hawke has done for you what the Make has done for me. Given your life structure. A much more fluid structure, but structure nonetheless.”

 

The corner of Fenris’ mouth twitched, his eyes not leaving Sebastian’s hand.

 

“…Fenris, did you…oh.” He slid his hand off of the elf’s shoulder, letting it fall to the pew. “Touch…still bothers you then. I apologize, I thought that maybe after Hawke you—“

 

“You talk about Hawke like he’s a blighted miracle worker, he isn’t. He’s just an apostate with a broad stroke of luck.” Fenris said with a little more vitriol than he intended.

 

Sebastian frowned. “’Just an apostate…?’” He leaned forward, speaking more into Fenris’ shoulder as the elf shrank back into the pew, eyes darting about before settling on the aisle. “You don’t actually believe that…do you?”

 

Fenris didn’t move. “Get back.”

 

“Answer my question.”

 

His markings flared. “Get. BACK.” The words left his mouth as a growl leading into a bark, echoing throughout the high, vaulted ceilings.

 

Sebastian’s lip curled a moment, and he held his position a second longer before slowing scooting away, and closing his eyes and lowering his head. Fenris relaxed a little, leaning forward just enough to get a better look at Sebastian’s expression, which was noticeably different than earlier. Sebastian’s brow was furrowed slightly, and his lips firmly set in a disapproving pout.

 

“Tch. Pout all you wish, I’ve _told_ you countless times not to do that.” When he received no answer the two sat in silence.

Fenris, as before, sighed, cleared his throat, burped once…anything to fill the air. When that didn’t work, he shifted in the pew, making it emit creaky notes.

 

“Stop fidgeting,” came a stern voice from Sebastian’s mouth.

 

“Hmph,” came the reply, followed by more squeaks of the pew, as it became more apparent that Fenris was making the sounds on purpose. Just when it appeared Sebastian was close to saying something, a strange, yet unmistakable sound came from Sebastian’s side of the pew, similar to the leg of  a new chair being dragged across an unforgiving floor. Fenris blinked, and sniffed, before closing his eyes tight, and pinching his brow with his thumb and forefinger. “…Tell me that was the pew.”

 

The prince remained unmoved except for the tiny smirk playing on his lips.

 

Fenris covered his mouth with a cautionary hand. “Your armor then?” Sebastian shook his head slowly, cracking a smile. With Fenris’ horrible suspicions confirmed, he leapt from the pew and stumbled into the aisle, both hands clasped across his mouth as he coughed in an exaggerated fashion, only taking a hand away to wave it through the air near his friend. “Really Sebastian? _Really?_ Augh, what did you _eat_ , that is…simply _foul_!”

 

Sebastian finally broke, and began laughing, covering his own mouth when the smell hit him as well. “Oh wow, that _is_ rancid isn’t it. That’s a bit of damage there.” He rose from the pew and joined Fenris in the aisle, the two of them laughing amongst each other, holding their sides. Once that subsided, they stood before one another, gentle smiles on both of their faces.

 

“Uhm,” Fenris began, stretching a bit from sitting so long, “I best be off. Donnic and Aveline are supposed to come by later. They want to help tidy up a bit, then we might go to the Hanged Man.” When Sebastian only nodded in response, he continued. “You’re welcome. To join us, that is. I know it isn’t your kind of place, and that Isabela is generally insufferable to you at the best of times…but the company is…” He stopped a moment, a small stroke of pink gracing his cheeks. “…it’s nice.”

 

“I appreciate the offer Fenris. Though I’m afraid I must decline. The Grand Cleric needs me here for a special service we’re holding later.”

 

Fenris’ expression fell for a moment, before a small smirk, uncharacteristic of him in some way, graced his features. More uncharacteristic was the tone with which he spoke: “…until when? Surely not all night?”  

 

Sebastian had never really suffered under any gaze that Fenris gave him, but the way those large green eyes struck him now, the way they were possessed of a different

sort of inquisition…one he recognized (if only barely, considering from whom the expression came). He cocked his head to one side, glancing askance at the floor for a moment, and then back to Fenris, the curiosity of his former self getting the better of him.

 

“I’m…sure the Maker can forgive one absence… as long as there is someone to take my place.” Sebastian found himself smirking right back. “I’ll let you know.”

 

Fenris seemed mildly surprised at his friend’s response, biting back a smile. “I’ll hopefully see you then.” He abruptly turned and walked down the aisle toward the stairs and Chantry doors, stopping just short of the third step to turn back. “Sebastian…”

 

He leaned onto the arm of the pew, perching there for a moment, regarding the elf thoughtfully. “Hm?”

 

“Th…ank you. For having faith.”

 

 

“…you’re always welcome Fenris.”


End file.
